Family and Other Entanglements
by lostcowgirl
Summary: Even for a loner like Matt Dillon people from his childhood can both hinder and save this lawman's life. It takes a "cousin" to help him survive those who want him out of the way permanently. This is an ATC to both The Cousin and Anybody Can Kill a Marshal.
1. Chapter 1 A Not So Chance Encounter

Chapter 1 – A Not So Chance Encounter

The Kansas prison brimmed with tales about the larger than life, no-nonsense marshal in Dodge City. Those stories recalled childhood memories to the new inmate. Once he served his time for robbery Chance Hopper would take Matt Dillon down a peg or two. The lawman had to be the adult version of the can do no wrong older boy on the Texas ranch where both were fostered. Old man Farron, to his mind, had favored the gangling 16-year-old over his own 15-year-old son John. The favoritism didn't stop after the older teen took off when Hopper was almost 11. From what he was hearing, Dillon's reputation hadn't changed. He remained perfect in other's eyes. Matt's treatment of the younger orphan was anything but perfect. Two years later Chance arranged to meet up with his old gang.

Hopper's two older partners, Jim Cheevers and Rupert Moran, eagerly met with him at the shack that served as their hideout to form plans for the gang's next robbery. Chance left for Dodge to case the town. The other two rode to the farm outside Larned that had become home. Pretty Hallie Danvers inherited it from Moran's mom's female cousin. Hallie didn't care that Moran, who pretended to be her father, was sweet on her. She liked the idea of playing the role of information gatherer in the gang's hope of striking it rich. Once Chance joined them in three days he'd finalize a plan that quite possibly would combine her information with his knowing Matt Dillon.

Meanwhile Hopper gathered information. What local gossip he heard, starting at the stable, confirmed rather than contradicted the prison rumor mill. The good citizens of Dodge City swore by the very much in charge of his town lawman. To his chagrin, Matt welcomed Chance's visit and the opportunity to learn of his experiences during the intervening years. He didn't even resent the visitor breaking up a bar fight in the Long Branch. Of course the owner Kitty Russell praising Hopper for it might have colored the big man's reaction. Instead of dismissing him, like when they were kids, Matt welcomed Hopper into his circle of friends and remained friendly even after Chance told him he was newly released from prison. Dillon looked on it as Hopper's chance to begin a new life on the right side of the law.

Matt's attitude did nothing to change how Hopper felt. Dillon was still apparently too perfect to be human. Perhaps Chance and his pals successfully robbing the bank would knock him off the pedestal. Then, instead of heading straight to Larned, Chance impulsively aided an old woman in a runaway buggy and broke his leg for his trouble. If he thought Matt's attitude weird before the accident, it was more so afterwards. Matt Dillon couldn't do enough for him, unlike when they were kids. He wondered why. Had he been privileged to hear it, his answer was expressed during a private dinner conversation between Matt and Kitty at Delmonico's.

"Well you musta done somethin' to him. Come to think of it, I bet you were a terrible bully."

"Well I guess I wasn't any saint or anything, Kitty, but I don't recall ever doin' anything to him, except maybe just ignoring him."

"Well that was friendly."

"Well, you know how it is. Chance was just a kid and I was older and bigger and well you know."

"Well, did you like him?"

"Well sure I guess I liked him, but well he was …"

"He was just a kid and you were a bigger kid."

"Yeah, I guess that's about the size of it."

"At least he gets to stay in town and you two can get to know each other."

"I guess that wouldn't be such a bad idea."

Instead, his own private conversation in Delmonico's with Hallie dwelt upon monthly gold shipments on the Wichita to Garden City stage and his friendship with the marshal. The young woman was quite impressed with the friends he'd cultivated when Hopper introduced her to Kitty and Doc, who'd been eating a few tables away. The next day, after Doc cut his cast down so he could move around with a cane, Chance drove a buggy out to the shack where Hallie, Cheevers and Moran waited. Waylaying a stage, he decided, was far less risky than robbing the Dodge bank. Due to past successes, they willingly followed his lead.

Hopper hoped to delay Matt by getting him to accompany him to Gilmore's to buy a new horse. Then, just like when they were kids, Matt's sense of duty forced him to insist the stage had to be met. Still, he didn't forget his companion's state of health. Matt suggested Chance ride back to Gilmore's ranch if the pace the lawman set proved to be too much for him. Feigning agreement, Hopper held back before coming forward to hit Matt on the head with his cane, knocking the larger man off his buckskin horse.

Seeing Matt lying still on the ground, Chance Hopper thought about the past few days compared to 20 years ago. The now grown man let go of his urge for revenge. He was ready to try something completely different. Maybe, unlike when they were kids, he should emulate rather than resent Matt Dillon. Perhaps, had he behaved differently, he wouldn't have become the poor ex-con cousin. He had time to decide if he still wanted to rob a stage that carried gold every month like clockwork. Leaving the unconscious lawman, Hopper rode to where Cheevers and Moran waited, to postpone things.

It didn't matter that his partners were surprised by how he'd dealt with the marshal. His harsh method was okay with Cheevers, who was ready to use his rifle to make sure Dillon never got up. Given Cheevers attitude Chance wasn't sure he could have stopped the two men had Moran not ridden off. As it was Cheevers reluctantly agreed to wait at least a month before they tried again. Relieved that he wouldn't have to choose between the men he went to prison for and the person he'd come to admire, Chance rode back to where he'd left Matt lying on the prairie. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found Dillon awake.

He found Matt not only awake, but all lawman. Hopper gave him no argument. Out of his newfound respect and understanding he was willing to face whatever he had coming, even returning to prison. Chance didn't care if Jim Cheevers joined Rupert Moran at Hallie Danvers farm outside Larned. Those three had to know he'd never betray them. Thinking about it, no matter what his future, he wouldn't mind if it included getting to know Hallie better.


	2. Chapter 2 Jail Break

Chapter 2 – Jail Break

Chester Goode hopped up and down as Matt and Chance dismounted in front of the jailhouse. If Dodge City's citizens hadn't been used to seeing his unique stiff right leg, bending left leg bounce he would have drawn stares. Chester raced inside ahead of the other two men, not waiting for Matt to close the door before beginning to babble. He ignored Chance's presence. The jailer had come to know Mr. Dillon's "cousin" while the young man was confined to the office cot by the cast on his leg and so thought of him as just another friend who'd understand.

"Chester, slow down."

"I'm sorry Mr. Dillon. I wasn't sure how long it would be until yah got back. I'm wantin' to git away fer awhile if yah kin spare me. I promise I'll be back before the first herd hits town."

"You have been cooped up with Chance here," Matt said sympathetically. "I can do without you for a bit. You goin' fishin'?" Matt added, looking at the fishing pole on the table with the rest of Chester's gear.

"Yeah, and huntin' with my brother Magnus. I'm meetin' him between here and Cimarron at that grove of trees along the Arkansas, about 20 miles upriver. Yah don't have ta let Miss Kitty, Doc and Quint know. They was all in the Long Branch when I read his letter."

"Just get back before April," Matt retorted to Chester's back heading out the door.

Silence accompanied his assistant's departure. Noise wasn't required for Matt to lock the pesky boy from his childhood into a cell. Both men had a lot of thinking to do involving the younger man's future. Chance hitting him over the head meant little to the lawman. Injuries to his person didn't signify, especially if the man showed remorse for possibly hitting him too hard. Such things were part of the job. Locking him up was necessary because the man and his gang planned the aborted robbery of the gold shipment the lawman was sworn to protect. The marshal hoped Hopper would furnish his partners names and descriptions. He'd a hunch they were responsible for several thefts during the past two years. For his part, Hopper hoped for a swift release since no holdup occurred and he showed concern for any injury he caused. In the end Chance believed Matt would get no information and he would be released due to lack of charges. What he hadn't decided was what to do afterwards.

Keeping Hopper in a cell until the judge arrived caused a logistical problem for Matt. With Chester gone either he or Quint Asper, the half Comanche blacksmith whose life he'd saved, would have to watch the jail. Without Quint's help Chance's partners could wait for an opportune moment to either kill or rescue him. They'd most likely strike at night. Even though he would willingly spend the night, Matt couldn't allow Quint to risk his life for what was his responsibility. Alas, that meant sleeping in his office with all the doors leading outside locked and his six-gun at the ready. Kitty wouldn't be happy about it. He hoped she'd at least understand.

One thing was in his favor. Mondays were generally quiet until the cattle season, which was almost a month away. Matt might even manage to get through an entire unhurried meal with those closest to him. That first day proved to be as quiet as he'd hoped. Matt enjoyed a quiet supper with Kitty at Delmonico's followed by chatting with her at their favorite table in the saloon before his late rounds. Even so, the marshal sighed as his footsteps brought him to the office to relieve Quint. Matt resigned himself to sleeping with one eye open on the too small cot that normally served as Chester's bed.

Matt Dillon rose at dawn. He stretched his cramped muscles then groggily made his way to the mirror to wash and shave. If there were such a thing as luck Chance's partners wouldn't strike, but he didn't believe in luck – only skill and alert observation. Luck or not, all remained quiet Tuesday despite knowing the gang members were probably nearby. He might have been looking right at them as he made his rounds either of the past two days. Meanwhile, Chance merely reiterated he'd changed his mind about going through with his plan so anyone else he might have involved was best forgotten. Matt's experience told him otherwise. The partners struck late that night.

Hallie Danvers planted herself in the alley across from the jailhouse. She watched Matt begin his final rounds for the night. As soon as he disappeared from sight she darted across Front Street to knock on the door of the brick building he'd just left. Quint, who had at most a half hour before going home to sleep in the room at the back of his shop, knew the young woman wanted to visit with Chance. She'd established herself as his beau the night before, but he still followed protocol. Despite his benevolent feelings toward the cooperative prisoner, Quint insisted she leave her reticule on his desk before letting her through the door to the cells. However, because she seemed trustworthy and Matt would soon return, he left the front door unlocked, unlike yesterday evening.

Quint was unaware that tonight Jim Cheevers and Rupert Moran waited in the shadows in the alley behind Hopper's cell to carry out their part in Moran's plan. They would wait until they heard Dillon's footsteps returning along the boardwalk. When he reached the alley both men would fire. Dillon would be dead and Chance could escape when the half-breed ran out to see what was going on. That would allow Hallie to give Hopper the gun she'd hidden in her skirt and grab the keys from the hook to unlock the cell door. As the time for action neared they would have paid no attention to the conversation between Hallie and Hopper, even if they could hear it.

"Chance, Jim and Rupert are getting you out of here. Four saddled horses are out back."

"Hallie, tell them to forget it. Matt's gonna have to bring me to trial later this week when the circuit judge comes through or let me go. Since I called off the robbery and he's reluctant to nail me for hitting him over the head, I'll get off. Because of our connection from when we were kids he'll do everything possible to put me in a good light."

"I'm not as sure as you about the outcome. I've a gun for you and will get the key as soon as I hear the signal. It's the only way I can be sure we'll be together sooner rather than later."

"Give me the gun. I've got an idea," Chance told her as she handed it over. "If it works, nobody will be hurt. All I ask is for you to wait around until I can join you. When I stand up to look out the window, go into the office and keep Quint busy."

Hallie did as she was told. Chance climbed on the cot under the cell window. He kept to the left side of it to give him a view of the boardwalk at the street end of the alley. Hopper waited until he spotted the unmistakable shadow Matt Dillon cast as he passed beneath the gas streetlight before hurling Hallie's derringer through the bars. Almost immediately Hallie and Quint heard three gunshots. She ran back to Hopper's cell, grabbing the keys on the way, while he sprinted through the office door onto the boardwalk and around to the alley entrance.

Chance's plan didn't work the way he'd hoped. Cheevers and Moran didn't run to the horses despite the distinct thud of the derringer hitting the alley dirt. Instead they fired at their intended victim, mistaking the sound for an improvised signal. Dillon, alerted by the soft thud as he approached, was quicker. He killed Cheevers before he could get off a round and caused Moran's shot to go into the dirt as he fell forward from Matt's lethal bullet. Quint entered the alley as Matt rose from checking that the two men were dead. The marshal picked up the small pistol before he and the blacksmith entered through the wide-open front door of the jail and continued on through the second door toward the cells. Hallie stood by the locked cell holding Chance, key in hand.

"I see you're still alive, Matt," Chance remarked. "How bad off are Cheevers and Moran?"

"They're dead. I take it the little gun is yours young lady. Care to tell me how you fit into all this?"

Hallie nodded, but Chance answered before she could speak. "No point hiding their names. Jim Cheevers and Rupert Moran were gonna rob the stage with me. Hallie Danvers, here, knew all about it. I spent two years in prison without ratting them out, but they weren't sure if I'd given into your way of thinkin'. They decided to kill you and bust me out with her help. I figure I'll still go free once you talk to the circuit judge, especially now that I revealed who was in on it with me. I had Hallie give me the gun so I could warn you and they could get away. I sure didn't want anyone killed."

"Marshal, what Chance didn't say is I care more about him than I ever did about Rupert Moran, who was my ma's cousin. Everything I've done is to give Chance and me a good life on the farm or wherever we wind up. I sweet-talked the stage driver, who thought Moran was my pa, into revealing when the gold shipments occurred. Then I brought the gun so Chance could escape. You can lock me up with him."

"No need, Hallie. There's nothing illegal about simply passing along information. I'm only bending the law when it comes to you giving Chance this gun," Matt said, showing it to her. "It saved my life. A farm needs tendin'" he continued as he took the ring of keys from her and unlocked the cell door. "I'd appreciate it if you stuck around, Chance, until the circuit judge comes through. Just in case he insists on a hearing."

Hallie and Chance saw to the burial on Boot Hill of Cheevers and Moran. Both remained in town long enough to learn there would be no hearing before they left for her farm outside Larned. Once the couple departed Matt hoped to get in some fishing with Kitty and most importantly avoid the office cot before Chester returned. She agreed. They didn't want to waste the chance they had. It would be criminal to not take advantage of the impossibility of Chester interrupting them at the most inopportune moments.


	3. Chapter 3 Targeted

Chapter 3 – Targeted

Peace and quiet was plentiful despite the March winds. The gusts moved the air with the promise of spring but left anyone venturing outdoors feeling mighty cold. There was even a snowfall or two to offset the few warmer, calm days. Matt Dillon and Kitty Russell managed to make us of a few of those warm March days to go off by themselves by the Arkansas with a picnic basket full of food in case the fish didn't bite. Of course, the weather made no difference when it came to their nights.

Nothing altered their blissful routine until one particularly blustery night three days after the circuit judge and Chance Hopper's short lived departure. That day's cold led to unexpectedly good business for the town's restaurants and saloons. Dodge City citizens, Ford County farmers in town to stock up on needed seed, and nearby ranchers and their hands were desperate for indoor warmth. The Long Branch with its vivacious red-haired owner, large stove, and ample refreshment and entertainment fit their needs perfectly. The proprietor, however, was dead on her feet at closing time.

Matt was, as usual, the last customer. He responded in good humor to her request he leave so she could turn in. He mumbled something about also heading off to bed. Sam finished closing up while Matt waited to leave until Kitty disappeared from view at the top of the stairs. For appearances sake the lawman headed toward his office as if on the last leg of his rounds. It was too risky for their relationship to become public knowledge so outwardly they appeared as nothing more than good friends. Matt hoped to use the alley that the door behind his desk opened onto to double back toward the Long Branch back stairs. He expected Kitty would be in her nightgown when he let himself inside with his key. Even if she were asleep she'd hardly object to his presence on his side of their oversized brass bed.

Suddenly all such thoughts were driven from his mind. Shots meant for him rang out. The rapidly fired bullets either whizzed by far too close for comfort or struck a heap of crates that were near enough to tumble on top of him as he ducked for cover. He was unscathed, but by the time Matt extricated himself from beneath the crates his would be assailant disappeared. Only Louie Pheeters, roused by the noise from his drunken slumber, was there to offer assistance. Shaken, Matt made his way back to the Long Branch. Somehow Kitty missed the clues his body provided about that narrow escape as they drew comfort from each other. He didn't bring it up. All too soon they fell into a deep sleep. As always, he awoke first. He quietly as possible dressed and made his way to his office. Fifteen minutes later his front door flew open.

"You make me sick," Kitty uttered angrily in response to Matt's hello.

"What's the matter now? I haven't even seen you today."

"You keep stalking around in the dark, you won't be around to see me!"

"Oh that. You heard about that."

"Well I wouldn't have if I hadn't stumbled over Louie Pheeters."

"Well, now you see, I wasn't alone. Louie was with me."

"I just don't understand men."

"If you don't, I don't know who does."

"It isn't brave, you know, running around by yourself. It's kinda stupid. You oughta get yourself some deputies."

"You want me to go running around in a crowd?"

"Who's after you? Do you know?"

"Kitty, when a man's trying to shoot you from ambush it's kind of hard to know who he is. He was riding a horse. That's all I know."

"Well that means he'll ride back and try to shoot you again!"

"Maybe he will."

"You know he will."

"Kitty, look, there's always gonna be somebody. That's just the way this job is. I can't run around and hide. And believe me there isn't a crowd big enough to get lost in if somebody really wants to kill me."

"You're very comforting," she replied sarcastically.

"You've known that all along."

"But I don't have to like it!"

"Maybe what I need is a woman deputy."

"I'll pass the word around."

"Don't you want the job?"

"I told you. You make me sick!"

The same accusation marked her entrance and departure. He shouldn't have tried to make light of the situation. She had every reason to be upset. The only way her tantrum and his reaction could have been avoided would have been if he hadn't reciprocated when she first showed an interest in him. As much as he'd wanted to avoid it, a casual enjoyment of each other's company had grown into close friendship and inevitably blossomed into love. She was that unique. He could bare his soul to her without realizing he'd done it until later. Matt had to admit each day during the more than eight years since they first laid eyes on each other deepened their bond. Feelings aside, he knew she was right. Whoever was after him this time would surely try again.

Sure enough, another attempt was made a couple days later. This time it was in broad daylight as Matt walked along the boardwalk. He spotted the man, who wounded him in the right leg, riding slowly down Front Street and returned fire. The little man, whose name Matt learned was Painter, fell from his horse from the bullet's impact into the path of a wagon. He died without leaving a clue as to who paid him $200.

Another attempt three days later as he limped through his late rounds between thunderstorms made Matt wonder if more than one person wanted him dead. Was Lucas, the one the dying man who'd called him out named, the only one? Was it Lucas who hired Painter or someone else? He'd told Kitty it was part of the job, but the uncertainty concerning the identity and number of his would-be assailants was grating on his nerves. Matt longed for answers. Before another day passed Chance was back. Although neither would admit it, he and Quint were keeping an eye on him. Matt didn't know when she'd arranged it, but Kitty had to be behind it.


	4. Chapter 4 A Man Called Lucas

AN: Thank you and Happy New Year to all those I couldn't personally contact.

Chapter 4 – A Man Called Lucas

A week after Ted Cleed's first unsuccessful attempt to kill Marshal Matt Dillon Charles Wilson Lucas awoke to find Cleed gone. He remembered Ted talking crazy last night as rain poured down on their improvised shelter and lightning flashed. Had the inept fool tried to kill Dillon again? Had he become another of the marshal's victims, like Painter the funny little man they hired? Either way, before he took action Lucas had to learn more about Dillon's habits, friends and local enemies. He rode into Dodge to watch, listen and learn.

Lucas was frustrated, but not daunted. Cleed, like the nothing little man who shot the lawman in the leg, was dead. Matt Dillon remained alive and, this time, unharmed. At least money was beginning to pour into the cow town along with the men who wielded it. His plan to hit the Dodge City bank before the cattle season was in full swing could still be salvaged. The snag was getting past step one. He'd have to take care of it himself. Killing Dillon was the only way to move forward. The lawman's demise was all that remained of the original plan.

Lucas noted how each year the potential haul from Dodge increased as more Texas cattlemen abandoned towns like Wichita, Ellsworth and Abilene for the Gomorrah of the Plains. The profits for 1875 could be all his. Only the already suspicious Dillon stood in the way. He had to die before the first large herd was corralled at the stockyards to await shipment to the slaughterhouses back east. All profits in subsequent years might be his as well if he set about obtaining them systematically.

The outlaw had to admit he was tired of his lot since the War. Instead of living the easy life, he was forced to scramble for the tiniest crumb. This past spring and summer were no different. He spent it committing petty thefts to supplement low stakes poker winnings simply to pay for cheap rooms and booze. No more! Robbing the bank remained step two in the now revised plan. All Lucas needed to accomplish his ultimate goal was patience and a notion of how to proceed. That meant laying low a bit longer. The upside was it let him eavesdrop, intentionally or not, on conversations that provided vital information.

One thing an inconspicuous Lucas couldn't do was to directly question prominent citizens. Also, mere eavesdropping limited the amount of knowledge he could gain about the man whose town Dodge City was. His options were definitely limited. Then during a poker game at the Bull's Head a Painter-like player completed the foursome sitting around the table. The unassuming, thin, not overly tall dirt farmer was skilled or lucky enough to win a few hands yet too stupid to keep his mouth shut. Clem Turner blabbed about how long he'd lived in and around Dodge City and the tons of important folks in town he knew as a result. Lucas decided to milk him of what he knew. He plied the farmer with good whiskey in the far fancier Long Branch. Turner proved to be full of useful facts.

"My pa came ta Dodge when it were jist a crossroads fer hide traders like him. Most traveled alone or with a partner or two. He traveled with ma and me. We settled down once the railroad was plannin' a depot. Back then, before the War, there was no school. Weren't much fer me ta do beyond keepin' out the way. I were parta the background when our big marshal got beat near ta death in '55. He were maybe ten years older than me, but a good deal taller than yer average boy of 14 or so. Doc pulled him through like he done so many times since. I watched and listened."

"I take it you were around when Dillon was hired." Lucas stated in an effort to keep the man talking. "I don't suppose you know how that came about?"

"Of course, I do. I was 17. It were jist my ailin' ma and me. Pa got kilt in the War I were too young ta fight. 'Sides, I was needed at home ta keep us in vittles and with a roof over our heads. Mostly it meant sweepin' out places. I listened ta keep the work interestin'. It's how I come ta overhear the committee decidin' which of the men the government in Washington should be US Marshal. They talked all 'bout what Dillon done since he last come through Dodge."

Turner went into detail, possibly more than needed. He told Lucas of the group of leading citizens discussing Matt Dillon's youth working as a cowboy, a gun for hire along the Mexican border and sometime deputy before and after his service in the War. Turner, who filed a claim on his homestead five years ago, didn't stop at Dillon's hiring. He brought the story up to the present. When drunk and disorderly Turner had felt the butt of the big man's gun far too may times to accept Chance Hopper's benevolent treatment after beaning Dillon as the norm.

A picture formed in Lucas' mind. He combined Turner's details with snippets gleaned from observation and overheard conversations to assess his prey. The smart, resourceful, self-reliant loner fully trusted few yet inspired loyalty in many. Even before Dillon joined the Union Army he gained a reputation, with or without a badge, as an honest enforcer of just causes that fell within a broad definition of the law. Back in early '66, not long after the former Deputy US Marshal in San Antonio was sworn in as the US Marshal for all of Kansas, word spread from cattle drover to cattle drover. Anyone bringing their herds to Matt Dillon's headquarters in Dodge City was guaranteed fair treatment.

Turner also told Lucas of the many men who'd tried to gun Dillon. Some, even those few who were unwilling to face him in a fair fight, nearly succeeded in their goal. Unlike what Cleed believed, there wasn't anything supernatural about Dillon's survival. He was that good and maybe a bit lucky. A highly competent physician had something to do with it as well. Still, Matt Dillon was a man and all men were vulnerable. Maybe Lucas could turn the lawman's desire to protect the innocent to his advantage. Any unarmed citizen might serve as bait or a human shield. An even better choice would be one of the few people Dillon allowed to get close to him.

Those thoughts were running through his head when he spotted Chance Hopper, the jailbird Turner mentioned. From scuttlebutt he'd gleaned that Hopper resented Dillon for being the foster kid who could do no wrong when the 10-year-old orphan came to live on the same Texas ranch with the then 16-year-old Matt Dillon. His desire to make the older boy, now a famous lawman, look bad slowly changed to one of grudging respect after the young man broke his leg, despite Dillon killing Hopper's partners Cheevers and Moran. They were two of those Cleed mentioned the lawman recently planted on Boot Hill.

While Lucas could understand Hopper wanting to take Dillon down a peg or two upon hitting town, he couldn't comprehend either man's subsequent actions. Why did Hopper help an old woman in a runaway buggy? Why did Dillon agree with the Long Branch owner's suggestion that he and Hopper get to know each other now that they were both grown? Most importantly, why didn't the lawman press charges after Hopper nearly killed him with the cane he carried because of his broken leg? Finally, why did Hopper save Dillon's bacon, not once, but twice? Hell, they weren't blood kin.

Whatever the answers, Hopper and the town's half Comanche blacksmith Quint Asper were sticking close to Dillon. Not close enough to crowd the big lawman, but near enough so they could step in if someone tried to take him down. At least Asper had a better reason. Dillon saved his life and then made him feel welcomed by at least a few whites.

With Hopper and Asper as human shields it was looking more and more like Lucas would have to get Dillon alone and then shoot the lawman at close range. Three people especially close to Dillon came to mind as bait – his gimpy assistant, the pretty Long Branch owner and the old and crusty town doctor. He could forget about Chester Goode if he wanted to act before any herds arrived. The jailer wasn't expected to return before April. Hence, Doc Adams and Kitty Russell remained the only viable choices. All he had to do was figure out how to use them to force Dillon to come to the rescue.


	5. Chapter 5 Setting a Trap

Chapter 5 – Setting a Trap

Matt Dillon never entered a situation blindly, unless he had no choice. Although his job, and the oath he swore when he took it, meant putting his life on the line, he wasn't reckless. He wasn't afraid to die, but didn't especially want his life to end. Therefore, if he could, Matt temporarily backed off until he found ways to improve the far too often overwhelmingly against him odds. The man with three first names was well aware his target didn't normally take unnecessary risks. However, all bets were off if Dillon's loss of emotional control clouded his judgment.

Currently, despite odds no better than 50-50, the lawman believed he had to seek out the unidentified man or men who wanted him dead. This decision, despite his friends urging caution, was calculated. Logic told him if he didn't counter the several attempts that had recently been made on his life he'd be too edgy. Emotional turmoil would render him useless. The actual man behind the attempts, Charles Wilson Lucas, Charlie to his kin, liked the current odds. He'd like them more once he tilted them so they were as close to 100 percent in his favor as possible.

Lucas chuckled. Each day that passed without another attempt on the lawman's life meant Dillon and his discrete protectors, Hopper and Asper, relaxed their guard a tad more. The marshal had survived this long because he never entirely let down his guard. However, being human, at times he had to relax completely. Charlie intended to exploit that fact along with the lawman's willingness to sacrifice his life for the lives of two particular people, no matter the odds. Of the two, which would render Dillon more vulnerable? He needed to decide who was best suited to set the trap. Time was running out.

The town doctor could easily be waylaid as he traveled to or from visiting a patient out in the country. A visit to the physician's office on some pretext when Lucas was sure the doctor was alone might also work. Charlie was certain Dillon would willingly come to Adams' rescue. The problem was murdering their physician and their peacekeeper might rally the town. No other medical man or lawman was available within a radius of at least 100 miles. Besides, if someone managed to inflict damage as Dillon died, Lucas would need medical attention. Adams wouldn't abandon that oath doctors take. He'd treat the wounded coldblooded killer of the man who was almost a son to him.

That made Kitty Russell the better choice. Enough people in Dodge City felt animosity toward the marshal and the saloon owner that their deaths would more likely split rather than unite its citizens. Lucas wasn't concerned with the prigs who disapproved of the redhead's sordid past or how she currently earned her living. He also didn't worry about those who were upset with the marshal's attachment to a saloon girl, whether or not they favored the lawman's methods. His worry was keeping those wanting an open town in line once the obstacle of Matt Dillon was removed.

Those were the thoughts running through Charlie Lucas' head three days after he rode into town alone. Nobody knew of his quick trips to Cimarron and Spearville to collect additional funds from gullible folks while he waited for Ted Cleed and Painter to eliminate Matt Dillon. Lucas easily pocketed the money from the till in the cafes and saloons of those two towns even as he won hand after hand at poker. They never even noticed they were being played. He'd more than recovered the $200 lost to Painter by the time Cleed became another Dillon victim. Lucas spent the three days since Cleed's death deciding how to reinvent himself. Nobody suspected he was activating the corollary that would ensure the success of his revised plan.

Step one – establish your bone fides as a businessman. First he moved out of the cheap rooming house into the Dodge House, registering under his full name Charles Wilson Lucas. To continue with establishing himself as a legitimate businessman rather than an outlaw, he established his credentials by depositing $2,000 in the Dodge bank while learning the extent of the bank's assets and its procedures for protecting them. Then, using friendly poker games, where he encouraged the other players to call him Charlie, to break the ice Lucas began cultivating awakening the town's business leaders interest in him.

Step two - invest in the community. Charlie purchased a building at the western edge of Front Street for $500 and let it be known he was turning it into a residence and source of wine, bottled beer, whiskey and other spirits for sale in bulk to the many saloons, and to individuals for their homes. The stock would range from the high end that only the Long Branch stocked in moderation to the cheap stuff that anybody with a bit of spare change could afford. Convincing everyone he'd be selling inventory would be step three even if there were no actual sales until after step four.

Charlie Lucas knew he wasn't expected to have his shelves and cellar filled until he could arrange for shipments from back east. He soon convinced Dodge citizens and visitors he'd make every effort to be well stocked before the cattle season was in full swing. Those who sold cheap whisky by the glass or beer by the bottle looked forward to having a ready supply on hand rather than having to order through a traveling drummer. They felt certain Lucas would provide a ready supply to meet the demands of an especially thirsty group of Texans and the hangers on their presence brought. No longer would they run the risk of pleasing only the temperance folks if they ran out. The customers, particularly the Texans, would have one less potential excuse for burning the town to the ground. Charlie's business would become a piece of insurance against that horrible outcome.

Preventing possible destruction wasn't the goal of step three, but thinking of actually carrying it out made Lucas smile. He'd enjoy fleecing the locals. Thirsty leading citizens would buy his high-end products and be grateful they didn't need to make arrangements, usually with the Long Branch, to include their home orders in with those of the bar. High stakes gamblers and those frequenting the most flagrant of the town's bordellos would have somewhere to purchase the bottles rather than individual drinks at highly inflated prices. Lowlifes thrown out of even the worst of the Dodge City establishments would buy his stock by the bottle to down in some back alley until their money ran out.

His smile reached his eyes as he dreamed of implementing the final two steps. Lucas thought of finding ways to put the area's leading citizens in his thrall, the owner of the Long Branch chief among them. He planned to kill her to further his scheme, but maybe she could be of use in other ways. Kitty Russell was a smart businesswoman who planned ahead. She'd have a will. Charlie suspected the building and most likely the business was left to her special friend Matt Dillon. With his death it would become the property of her head bartender Sam Noonan. Lucas would use that to his advantage.

Plans are meant to be flexible. After spending three days watching Kitty Lucas no longer thought of her as a mere cog. The woman captivated him. A variation of step four began to form in his head. He'd still use her to entrap Dillon, but he wouldn't kill her if he could help it. Instead he'd take her as his own. Force wouldn't be necessary. He was certain a woman with her past would welcome his overtures. She'd want to be controlled by the man who bested her former beau. All such women were available for the taking no matter how thick the veneer of lady-like behavior. He'd allow her to run the wholesale business in addition to sharing his bed. Lucky Sam would run the Long Branch.

Lucas was ready to implement step four, the precursor to step one of the main plan and complimentary to step three of the auxiliary plan. The time to do it was late morning before Kitty and Sam set out the free lunch. He could count on the craggy-faced tall bartender and his beautiful employer being the only ones in the bar, with the possible exception of a quickly departing customer or two. The town drunk Louie would have finished the dirty jobs like emptying spittoons and gone off to enjoy his bottle rather than a meal. Charlie wouldn't even have to get a note to his prey. Matt Dillon stopped by regularly to ask if Kitty wanted to join him for dinner. As soon as he heard Dillon's boot heels on the boardwalk, Lucas planned on knocking out Sam and grabbing Kitty Russell the moment the marshal pushed through the batwing doors. Marshal Matt Dillon would soon die. Dodge City would be his.


	6. Chapter 6 The Trap Is Sprung

Chapter 6 - The Trap Is Sprung

On Tuesday morning in the last week of March 1875 the strong winds of only a day or two ago had become a breeze wafting gently down the town's streets. The sun shone brightly under a clear blue, with just a hint of fleecy clouds, sky. In short, it was one of those mornings that promised not just a beautiful day, but also a bountiful spring. Housewives meandered along the boardwalk on their errands, men tended to their businesses and children filled the school. Any enterprising newcomer would see Dodge City as a place to sink roots, a town with a promising future. Onlookers could easily mistake Lucas for that newcomer as he crossed Front Street to enter the Long Branch.

The saloon appeared empty except for Sam when Charlie Lucas approached the bar. He requested an Irish coffee. It was a bit early for a respectable man to order hard liquor, but diluting it with coffee made drinking it acceptable. He stood at the bar sipping from his porcelain cup chatting amiably with the bartender when Sam's employer emerged from her office. Charlie immediately altered his focus.

"Miss Russell, may I interest you in sharing coffee and conversation?" Lucas purred.

"That would be my pleasure, Mr. Lucas. I hope you don't mind if the marshal joins us in a few minutes. It's about time you met him, if you haven't already."

"Actually, I haven't met the esteemed Mr. Dillon. As a businessman trying to establish his store, it would be advantageous to get to know such a pillar of the community."

Lucas could hardly believe how well the dominoes were falling into place. All he had to do was set them in motion. He escorted the beautiful redhead, attired in a green morning dress, to the center table closest to the bar. Sam followed with a tray containing Lucas' whiskey-laced cup, an empty one for his boss Miss Kitty, the matching blue porcelain coffeepot filled with newly made coffee and an assortment of sweet rolls fresh from the bakery. His elegant hostess poured, covering the shot of whiskey that adorned his cup until it was nearly full. She was filling her own cup when Charlie heard the unmistakable sound of boot heels on the boardwalk wood. The apparent length of stride meant they belonged to Matt Dillon.

"Pardon me," Lucas said, rising from his seat to follow Sam back toward the bar. "I'd best fetch some cream."

Kitty focused on the nearing footsteps in anticipation of seeing the big, handsome man they belonged to burst through the batwing doors. She paid scant attention to the man who'd risen from their shared table. Therefore, she didn't see him knock the butt of his pistol against her chief bartender's head. Lucas was back at the table before Sam crumpled to the floor behind the bar. The next instant Charlie pulled Kitty out of her chair. With his eyes focused on the door as Matt entered, Charlie dragged the firmly held woman backwards toward the polished, long wooden bar. He drew his sidearm.

"Dillon, unbuckle your gun belt and toss it on the table. Do it quick or Red here's dead."

Matt, taking no chances with Kitty's life, did as he was told. He was in the process of stepping clear of the table to become an easy, stationary target per instructions when, despite his back being toward the batwing doors, he became aware of someone whose peculiar gait he knew well approaching the saloon. Lucas, unaware of the identity of the man coming toward the saloon entrance, aimed his six-gun squarely at the chest of the completely vulnerable Matt Dillon. At no more than 20 feet he couldn't miss. Not only that, Red, as he decided to call her, would live to serve his whims. He confidently eased his hold on Kitty and pulled back the hammer of his drawn weapon.

"Oh, there you are Mr. Dillon," Chester stammered before becoming silent as his mind registered the meaning of the scene playing out before him.

"Chester, isn't it?" Lucas blurted out, temporarily turning his attention to the intruder as he fired at Matt.

Matt, moving with more agility and speed than expected from a man of his size, took advantage of the momentary distraction. His feet moved rapidly forward as his hand reached out for his Peacemaker. He'd placed it where, if the chance came, he could easily grab it and fire. Two shots rang out nearly simultaneously. Kitty raced toward Matt, who moved toward her at a much slower pace. He threw his arms protectively around her as his eyes took in Lucas waving his Colt before slumping to the floor.

"Chester, get his gun," he managed at close to full strength. "Kitty, honey," he whispered as his strength faded. "I need to sit down."

Completely forgotten until that moment, Sam stirred. Although groggy from the blow to his head, he stumbled forward to help his boss get her man into a chair while Chester verified that Lucas was no longer a threat. He leaned over to hear the gravely wounded man's last words. The jailer was sure Mr. Dillon would want to know what they were.

"Unless my shot does him in Cleed was right. He can't be killed. At least I did more damage than Painter," he murmured with his dying breath almost too quietly for Chester to hear.

Despite being sure of that fact, he stood with Lucas' gun pointed at the corpse. However, Chester did glance over to see Sam and Kitty help Matt into the nearest chair. As the lawman slumped forward onto the table Chance and Quint, alerted by the shots, raced into the saloon.

"Chance, help Miss Kitty and Sam get Mr. Dillon up to Doc. Quint and me can drag the body over ta the undertaker," Chester ordered, taking charge of the situation to everyone's surprise. "Louie, look after the Long Branch until Sam or Miss Kitty git back," he added noticing the old drunk, who'd just wandered inside, in his peripheral vision.

Chester's instructions set everyone in motion. None took the time to reflect on what the dead man intended. That would come later as they sifted through recent events.


	7. Chapter 7 Waiting

Chapter 7 – Waiting

A crowd started to gather as everyone but Louie exited the Long Branch. Sam, Kitty and Chance headed across the alley with the nearly unconscious Matt Dillon toward Doc's stairs. The little mostly gray-haired physician was already halfway to their side, but turned back toward his office to prepare for an immediate operation. Meanwhile, Quint and Chester dispersed the crowd with shouts of "nothing more to see" and "move along". As soon as they'd sufficiently cleared the street the blacksmith and jailer carried the body of Charles Wilson Lucas to the undertaker for later burial on Boot Hill.

Lucas left behind more than enough money in the bank for a formal funeral. Whatever assets still remained after the rights were performed without any but those officially required in attendance would increase the town's coffers. Such financial windfalls were of no consequence to Chester and Quint. Their focus was entirely on the fate of Matt Dillon. They weren't alone. Much of the crowd Chester had told to disperse were now milling about in the Long Branch anxiously awaiting word. Word that Sam and Chance were unable to supply.

"If yah can't tell the rest of them, could yah tell us?" Chester whined, drawing the barman & Mr. Dillon's "cousin" as far as possible from prying ears.

"Doc's last words were 'Get out, both of you, so Kitty and I can work!'" Chance murmured.

It hardly mattered if anyone in the crowd overheard. All his words conveyed were that their marshal was alive, for now. Sam was already busy with customers as it dawned on Chester and Quint that Doc wouldn't want them around either. The two men downed their beers. Departing through the swinging batwing doors together, they soon separated – Quint for his blacksmith shop and Chester to keep an eye on the office for his boss.

Doc, with Kitty's assistance, was hard at work trying to assess the damage his friend has suffered now that he and his nurse were alone. He knew the sooner he stopped the bleeding, the better Matt's chances were. The bullet must have nicked an artery because the flow wasn't slowing down. Sure enough, once he was able to peer closer at the wound he spotted the tiny nick in the subclavian artery.

"Kitty, I need you to hold the wound open while I sew up this artery. I can't even begin to probe for the bullet before I stop the bleeding."

It was obvious from the grim expression displayed on the faces of the physician and his part-time nurse that both were worried. The man on the table was more than a patient. He was very dear to each. Doc was very much aware of the deep love his assistant held for the man. After all, these two were the closest he'd ever come to having a daughter and son. However, Doc knew neither he nor she could afford to let emotion cloud his progress or he'd lose any hope of saving that stubborn, overgrown public servant.

Once his exemplary stitching stopped the bleeding and they had cleared the entry wound of excess blood, Doc was able to painstakingly insert the probe to locate the bullet from Lucas' gun. He finally found it lodged in the joint between the scapula and the ball of the humerus in Matt's left shoulder. He carefully lifted the 45-caliper projectile from where it lay and deposited it in the metal tray Kitty lifted from the small table for him. He prayed in extracting it he hadn't caused any additional damage that might limit future mobility in Matt's left arm.

"Doc, will he make it?" Her quiet voice pleading that his answer would be positive.

"It's too soon to tell for certain," the physician replied as he packed and sutured the wound. "He's lost a lot of blood, but if no infection sets in and he doesn't hemorrhage Matt's got a good chance. We'll know more in the morning."

That the two people sitting vigil by the bedside of the still form of the most important man in their lives scarcely noticed the comings and goings of others was expected. The surprise was in the fact the patient awoke with the dawn. By that time he had been gently transferred, so as not to put any strain on the wound, to the bed in the spare room. Matt turned his head, first to his left where the doctor sat. Then to his right, despite the toll it took on his strength, to rest his eyes on the redheaded vision sitting there. His gaze lingered on her, the corners of his mouth turning upward in a broad smile reserved only for Kitty Russell.

"You're okay," he whispered, before contentedly closing his eyes, having been exhausted by the effort.

Two hours later the patient sat wide-awake, propped up by four pillows behind his back. The only clue to his weakened state was his inability to hold anything heavier than a half-full coffee cup in his unaffected right hand. The seemingly indestructible Matt Dillon had to acknowledge how weak he felt even if he ignored the debilitating pain that radiated from his injured left shoulder.

"What happened with Lucas?" he asked as three more visitors tried to squeeze into the small bedroom.

Chester, Quint and Chance looked from one to the other. As if by agreement, they let Chester reply.

"He's dead, Mr. Dillon. You shot him as he was shooting you."

"You were lucky, Matt," Doc added. "If Chester hadn't distracted him enough for you to bend over and turn your body to the right his bullet would have penetrated your heart. As it is, you'll have to stay in this bed at least a week."

"The way I feel right now, I might have to give you five days, Doc."

"All of you – out! Let him get his rest so he can try to prove his personal physician wrong!"


	8. Chapter 8 Almost Normal

Chapter 8 – Almost Normal

Only Kitty remained after Doc shooed everyone else out of his office. She needed to make certain the physician would rest. She knew Matt would. He was sound asleep. Knowing how stubborn the young woman was, Doc gave in on condition she alert him immediately to any relapse suffered by Matt and go home to rest for a few hours when he awoke. Even then Doc hesitated. He turned toward his erstwhile daughter.

"Young lady, I know you too well. You've been without sleep fer possibly longer than I have. You need rest as much as I do."

"Curly, I'm a lot younger than you. I can more easily shake off lack of sleep. Besides, Matt's not the only one depending on your skill. You have to be ready."

"I'm well aware of my responsibilities. It seems you've forgotten yours. There's no denying Matt needs the curative powers only you possess, but he's stubborn about getting to do what he wants. Above all, he wants to live despite seeming to want the opposite. His health will improve even if you leave his side for several hours at a time. Also, you still have a business to run. It's not fair to Sam to leave him alone to keep the Long Branch going."

"You're right," the redhead replied guiltily. "We've both been negligent. Chance, Quint or Chester can watch Matt sleep while we rest. I'll tell Sam to wake me in a couple of hours so he can take at least one three-hour break today. Of course you'll have to get the same amount of sleep while lying down as well. Deal?"

"Deal," he said, shaking her hand to seal their accord and then giving her a fatherly peck on the cheek.

Kitty was surprised when she entered her establishment to see Quint behind the bar. Chester had set up a rotating schedule. She should have guessed it when she passed Chance heading in the opposite direction. He planned on heading home for Larned and Hallie after at least one more chat with Matt. Satisfied that her business was in good hands, Kitty climbed the stairs to her room. She fell into a restorative sleep as soon as her head hit her own pillow and her body was able to cuddle against Matt's pillow.

Three hours later Kitty was schmoozing with her customers, Sam and Doc were watching Matt Dillon sleep, Chester and Quint were at their own places of work and Chance was in his hotel room packing to leave as soon as Doc released Matt. While her friends adapted to Chester's schedule a new arrival called Kitty over to his table. He was a well-groomed, dark-haired, well-muscled handsome man who she estimated stood at an inch or two over six feet when upright. He rose from his chair as she approached his table. She noted he was also polite, for the most part.

"I'd thought the barkeep was the owner, but he set me straight. I'll admit you don't fit the mental image I'd formed of you. You're much younger and prettier, for example. Would you care to join me?"

"I'm flattered, but I can barely spare the time for introductions. Besides, I've no interest in selling," she replied, guessing at his intentions.

"And I've no interest in buying – saloons, that is. "I buy cattle. Name's Grant Halliman. Since I'm new to Dodge, I thought I'd get a feel for things here by arriving early. I didn't ask your bartender your name and he only volunteered his boss is a woman. However, once you arrived I had no trouble spotting where you fit into the scheme of things."

"You're a most observant man, Mr. Halliman. You should do well once the season opens as long as your persuasive charm continues to match your powers of observation. I'm Kitty Russell."

While Kitty was getting to know her new customer, Chester and Chance joined Doc. They were on hand when Matt awoke, fully alert and full of questions. He was learning what had occurred since he was shot when Kitty joined them.

"So Lucas hired both Cleed and Painter. That means nobody else is actively after me, for now."

"Oh that's a relief," Kitty interrupted sarcastically. "I don't have to worry about your funeral at least until the first large herd arrives."

"Now Kitty, my enemies are understanding. They'll allow me time to recover from this latest attempt on my life. Doc, if I'm gonna be ready for such accommodating enemies, I'll need something more than coffee or broth. I might be persuaded to remain in this bed if you'll bribe me with a steak."

"You are getting stronger, Mr. Marshal, despite me starving you. You can have your steak provided you keep your word and do one more thing for me."

"What's that?"

"Keep that shoulder immobile in a sling until I say otherwise. I don't want you undoing all my good work. We'll start with allowing you to sit up in bed to feed yourself dinner. Tomorrow will be soon enough to assess the damage to your left arm and shoulder."

Over the next few days, the debonair Halliman chatted up Kitty Russell as much as he could. The rest of the time he watched the curvaceous woman with the copper hair go about her business. He smiled at how she would have to rethink her opinion of his powers of observation if he'd failed to notice that certain regular customers and her head bartender meant more to her than simply people she saw every day. He also wondered where she spent her time when she wasn't watching over her business. She seemed to be absent several hours each day – more hours than could be accounted for by eating or the usual female tendency to waste her time shopping.

Had Halliman stalked rather than observed, he would have discovered Kitty was an essential part of Matt Dillon's recovery process. By the time Grant decided the saloon keeper was someone he'd like to get to know better, Matt was spending more and more time out of bed pacing Doc's rooms like a caged tiger as his strength slowly returned. Though his shoulder remained in a sling, he was able to use his left hand to hold small objects. Another day or two at the most and he'd be back in his office and making his rounds.


	9. Chapter 9 Halliman's Discovery

AN: Again, thank you for your reviews to those I can't contact directly. Also, I apologize for accidentally posting chapter 10 as Chapter 9. This is the correct Chapter 9.

Chapter 9 – Halliman's Discovery

Grant Halliman felt he and Kitty Russell had developed a rapport. Perhaps the time had come for him to ask her to supper at Delmonico's. He learned it was the best restaurant Dodge City had to offer. Grant strode jauntily from the lobby of the Dodge House onto the boardwalk. Front Street was full of traffic. While waiting for it to clear so he could safely cross to the Long Branch his attention drifted toward the far side of the street.

Halliman's eyes naturally drifted toward the saloon but he couldn't help but notice the few people he recognized as locals had turned their attention toward the steps leading up to Doctor Adams' office. A rather formidable looking man, despite his obviously weakened by injury state, was making his way down those stairs toward the street. The large man, his left arm tightly bound to his body in a sling, was doing a passable job of hiding the effort it took to descend toward the street. Halliman edged closer. Grant could see the man's right arm wrapped around Kitty Russell's waist and her left arm girding his waist. Moreover, he leaned ever so slightly toward her. When Halliman noted her right hand gripping the railing he realized how much support she was providing.

The cattle buyer sized up the situation. His chances with the saloon owner, now that he knew where she'd been spending most of her time, were far less than he originally thought. The man with her, he learned, was Dodge City's marshal. He'd been seriously wounded in a gunfight with one of the many entrepreneurs who came through town in hopes of killing the famous lawman so as to be set up for life. The whole town willingly shared that bit of gossip. What remained a secret was the extent of Matt Dillon's connection to the vivacious redhead. At least that's how Grant saw things. Still, he didn't give up all hope. Maybe she was only providing solace to an injured friend, on the road to recovery, whose health was vital to the health of the community.

Halliman was desparate to know all about the lawman and the saloon owner. How close were they? Were they part of a tight circle of friends and relations? If he were observant enough and asked the right people discretely, he'd soon have his answers. He wasn't one to give up easily. Even if no information were forthcoming, he'd ask her to supper. The worst outcome would be her turning him down and that was a possibility even before he saw her with Dillon. The couple took their time crossing the alleyway and making their way to the batwing doors that were the only barrier to entering the saloon on this unseasonably warm day.

Grant retreated to the Dodge House where he sat on one of the chairs placed on the boardwalk for hotel guests and others wishing to rest their feet. He barely noticed Chance Hopper exit the hotel, carpetbag in hand, to saunter toward the stable. Before long the doctor and the jailer made their way into the Long Branch. Even though he couldn't hear what Doc and Chester were saying from where he sat it was obvious the two were engaged in some petty squabble that only occurs between close friends. Not more than five minutes later, the town blacksmith, the half-Comanche Quint Asper, also strode into the saloon.

The cattle buyer tipped his chair back so it balanced on two legs. He was prepared to continue watching the saloon for the next hour unless something happened sooner. That something occurred within less than five minutes. The young man, who'd also been staying in the Dodge House, tied up his horse in front of the saloon and strolled inside. Since the horse now blocked his view, Halliman crossed Front Street for a closer look at the Long Branch barroom.

Every person of interest he'd watched enter the saloon was inside. All six were seated at the table tucked into the corner against the interior stairway wall. Halliman's chance to secretly find out how these people were connected came as the group finished their drinks, stood and headed en masse for the boardwalk. Grant stepped into the shadows beneath the Long Branch balcony and leaned against the wall where he wouldn't be seen, but could still hear.

"I wasn't alone in thinking you were always right back when we were kids, but I've since learned different. One thing for certain, I'm gonna follow your advice and stay straight."

"Chance, see that you do," Matt replied, ignoring the implications of Chance's words. "Kitty reminded me you were just a kid back then. Now, you've the makings of a good man."

"Thanks, Matt. I might just have convinced Hallie of the same. If she thinks enough of our chances of makin' a go of the farm together, she might marry me. I'm hoping a ring will satisfy her lust for gold. You'll know one way or t'other in no more than a couple weeks. Come to think of it Matt, you might try settlin' down on a place with Kitty."

"Maybe someday," Matt replied, his tone and expression not indicating if he meant the thinking or the doing part.

"Bye y'all," Chance called as he swung into the saddle.

An hour later, when she was alone, Grant Halliman asked Kitty Russell to supper. She turned him down. It was no surprise. Over the course of the week that followed he watched the town start to fill up and Matt Dillon regain his strength. It wouldn't be long before the first Texas herd arrived. If he liked what he saw of the steers and beat the other offers Dodge City would be good for him. It would become fabulous if he could make headway with Miss Kitty. Grant tried again. Again, she turned him down.

Halliman wasn't a man to give up easily. He decided on a new tactic. Instead of keeping a close eye on the saloon owner he opted to know where the marshal was while in town. Of course he would follow if the man left with the redhead. The turning point, at least for him, was the day Chance Hopper's telegram arrived. Grant made sure he was in a position to hear the reaction without anyone being aware he was eavesdropping.

"Cowboy, we should go."

"Kitty, you, Doc and Chester go. I need to stay."

"I need to remain as much as you do!" she snapped. "I have help I can rely on and so do you. Sam can take care of the Long Branch the three days we'll be gone and Quint can look after the town. Any other objections you come up with won't wash, Matt Dillon. Chance invited everyone from Dodge who means something to him. The only person other than us is the old woman with the runaway buggy. Mrs. Clippard won't crowd you on the stage," Kitty added before Matt could speak. "She can sit with Doc and Chester if you feel you'll be squeezed too tight against me on our side," at which the marshal fleetingly smiled as he caught her hidden meaning.

"I'll be glad to look after things," Quint chipped in when he approached while Matt sputtered his objections. "I'm sure you'll be back before the herds and any real trouble hit the streets."

The snippet of conversation gave Halliman pause. Remembering what he'd heard when Chance Hopper left and combining it with what was implied now, Grant reckoned Matt Dillon and Kitty Russell were very close indeed. He decided to follow the marshal until he settled in for the night, whenever that might be. His persistence was rewarded. The lawman completed his late rounds at the Long Branch as it was in the process of closing, left after a nightcap and walked purposefully to his office. He didn't stay. Instead, Dillon used the back streets and alleys to return to the saloon, climb the outside backstairs and used a key to enter the upper floor. Grant Halliman now knew his chance of wooing Kitty Russell for either a fling or a more permanent encounter was zero. It was time to concentrate on earning a living. There'd be other women.


	10. Chapter 10 A Spring Wedding

AN: Here's this chapter back where it belongs as Chapter 10. I apologize for the lack of continuity due to my goof.

Chapter 10 – A Spring Wedding

Two days after receiving the telegram Matt knew he couldn't win against Kitty. It didn't help that Doc and Chester agreed with her. They refused to credit whatever counter arguments about going to Larned he raised, including his left arm remaining in a sling. Besides, there was a hidden reason that only he, Kitty and the bride and groom know about. Matt couldn't face the embarrassment that would follow if that secret became public knowledge in Dodge and he skipped the ceremony. He stood at the depot ready, if not willing, to get on the stage to attend tomorrow's wedding of Chance Hopper and Hallie Danvers.

For once there wasn't a single mishap or delay on the 40-mile trip. They left at nine and arrived, after the usual stops to change horses, 4 hours later at one. Matt unfolded his cramped body from the stage. He wasted no time in handing first Kitty and then Mrs. Clippard, the woman whose runaway buggy Chance halted, down to the boardwalk in front of the depot. Only then did Doc and Chester climb out. Soon, with Chester's help, their luggage was off the coach ready for them to take inside the hotel. Kitty brought a small trunk and a couple hatboxes, while everyone else packed only a carpetbag.

Larned's main street was quiet for this 15th day in April 1875, but then it was a Thursday. Kitty had wired ahead to reserve four rooms in the best hotel in town. The room assigned to Mrs. Clippard and the one reserved for Doc and Chester to share were directly across the hall from the adjoining rooms belonging to Matt and Kitty. When she learned she'd have a room to herself Mrs. Clippard objected.

"I'm already obliged to that nice young man for saving me when I lost control of my buggy. All I ever did was help get him into town for Doc to set his broken leg. Land sakes! I owe him my life, not t'other way 'round. He never had cause to invite me to his weddin', let alone pay my stage fare and fer a private room."

"Mrs. Clippard, Chance invited you to his wedding out of gratitude, nothing more," Kitty stated. "If not for that broken leg he might be in jail still resenting the way Matt treated him as a boy. I'm paying for your trip, not him. The private room's no bother. I can well afford a private room for each of us."

"Miss Kitty, I kin help Mr. Dillon git yer bags into your room fer yah. That way we can set down in that café I noticed fer dinner. If I don't eat soon, I'll simply waste away."

"Chester, with what you put away at breakfast, I'm sure you can last long enough to wash the dust off before we pollute the chairs in that restaurant you mentioned," Doc scolded. "You'll be happy to know we'll be able to eat four regular meals before the free food and drink at the reception tomorrow afternoon. I'll pay fer 'em since Matt ain't payin' fer a separate room fer you and you can barely afford to share a room."

As soon as Chester left her room Kitty unpinned the hat she'd worn on the trip and opened the small trunk. Sitting on top was Matt's tweed courting coat and a pair of black pants. Matt had packed a white shirt and string tie in his carpetbag along with his shaving kit, figuring all he'd need to do is polish his boots, brush the travel coat and tan pants he'd worn on the trip and hang them up overnight to air. Kitty knew better. The best man and maid of honor couldn't outshine the bride and groom. Yet they couldn't look travel worn either. The request was contained in a telegram addressed to Kitty with instructions for Matt to pick up the ring his "cousin" had purchased. It had been difficult, but she'd convinced her cowboy he couldn't refuse.

Kitty opened the connecting door so she could hang his wedding attire in the wardrobe in his room. Matt followed her with his carpetbag. He'd set up his shaving kit and comb there as well so as not to interfere with Kitty's more elaborate ablutions. After helping her reach the buttons on her travel dress he brushed himself off and rolled up his sleeves to wash the dust off his face and hands before joining her in the adjoining room.

While Matt freshened up in his room Kitty washed and hung up her travel attire and the dress she'd wear to the afternoon wedding. She was buttoning up a shirtwaist when Matt entered. He watched in admiration as she redid her hair before taking a hat from one of the two hatboxes to exchange it for the one she'd been wearing. Finally they were ready to join their companions for the meal Chester was so anxious to consume.

Chance Hopper, in keeping with tradition, rode into Larned in a buggy from the farm Thursday evening. Although he stayed overnight in the same hotel as the Dodge City folks, he didn't see them until they were all seated in the hotel dining room for breakfast the next morning. Doctor Adams agreed, after receiving his own telegram, to play the part of the bride's father since Hallie Danvers had no living male relatives that she knew of to give her away at the church. Therefore it fell upon Doc to rent a buggy and bring the bride to be into town in time for the church ceremony at three o'clock.

By the time Hallie arrived Kitty had seen to it that Matt was dressed and keeping a nervous Chance occupied in the groom's room. Doc dutifully delivered the bride to be, her wedding dress in a box, to where her maid of honor waited in her petticoats. While the two women dressed and Kitty styled their hair, the remaining members of the Dodge party also dressed. Chester, once he'd donned his Sunday clothes, peaked out of the window at the street below to spot Matt and Chance strolling toward the church. That was Doc's signal to cross the hall to knock on Kitty's door and for Chester to collect Mrs. Clippard to ride in the second buggy they rented.

Other than Mrs. Clippard and Chester there were only a few older folks who'd known Hallie since childhood. All turned as Doc escorted the bride and her maid of honor to the altar. Matt and Chance only had eyes for their women. Doc might as well have not been present while Kitty took her place opposite Matt and the physician delivered Hallie to stand beside her husband to be on cue. Distracted by Kitty's beauty, Matt fumbled with his coat pocket and then juggled the ring before handing it to Chance. Nothing else happened that could possibly mar the ceremony, nor did any mishap occur with the buggies Chance, Matt and Chester drove back to the hotel.

The reception, held in a large room available for rental off their hotel's lobby, wasn't the most lavish affair. Very few, other than the people from Dodge, attended, which was a good thing. The couple preferred to plow their limited ready cash into making the farm profitable. What the small attendance did do was allow Kitty, Doc and Chance to get in not so subtle hints about the joys of marriage with the right person. Gradually folks drifted outside to send the happy couple back to their farm. Hallie kept hold of her bouquet until that moment. She turned an instant before Chance handed her into their transport to toss it directly at Kitty, who instinctively caught it.

Two nights away from Dodge were a mixed blessing for Matt. Kitty, armed with the bridal bouquet of early spring wild flowers, continued the teasing that began during the reception. She placed the wild flowers in a vase before changing from her bride's maid's attire into something more comfortable. He was pleased by what she chose to wear. They would eat in their room if they got hungry. Let the others see to their own entertainment and refreshment.

Matt was about as relaxed as the responsibilities of the badge allowed. He lay in bed watching Kitty while waiting for her to awaken. Since they stayed two nights, both beds were used. Sensing that it was time for them to get ready if they were going to eat breakfast before heading home, he gently shook her shoulder and whispered in her ear. The return trip departure time was two hours earlier than their departure time from Dodge. At this time of year it was not more than a half-hour past dawn.

This being Saturday Larned was even quieter than when they'd arrived early Thursday afternoon. The five people from Dodge City claimed the same seats they had on the trip out – Matt and Kitty on the backward facing bench with Doc and Chester flanking Mrs. Clippard on the opposite one. The marshal hoped his town was as he'd left it.


	11. Chapter 11 Time to Reflect

Chapter 11 – Time to Reflect

Not only was Dodge City still standing when they arrived home at 11 AM, it was peaceable. Quint and Sam were there to meet the stage to assure their friends that all was truly well. No epidemic was wreaking havoc, no property was destroyed, nothing was robbed and nobody was killed. In fact, there weren't even any fistfights or crockery broken for the fun of it while Doc Adams, Kitty Russell and Marshal Dillon were away. Still, it was strange that Matt didn't fret over the possibility of such things when he rode out of town on official business. He only worried when he took time off to be Matt the man. Now that he was home, the badge took over and he peered at Front Street in search of those who could mean trouble for his town, his friends and him.

Grant Halliman, who the marshal may have looked on as a source of trouble, first attempted to make a living as a cattle buyer in Sedalia. Every season since the War he traveled from his native Chicago to that Missouri town to buy meat on the hoof for the slaughterhouses back home. Because he felt comfortable with his chosen way to earn a living he made certain he was aware of every change. He studied the relationship of the live cattle market's geographic shift with the westward expansion of the railroad. It was why he traveled to Dodge City in this year of 1875. However, it wasn't why Grant watched its passengers disembark at the stage depot from his Dodge House hotel room. The reason was his unrequited affection for the saloon owner and, by extension, a benevolent interest in those close to her.

Grant noted the current state of Matt Dillon's health. The lawman wasn't wearing a sling like when he left for Larned. The shoulder seemed to be less stiff and stronger. Dillon used both arms to reach for Kitty Russell's trunk atop the coach. He didn't rely on his assistant Chester like he had three days earlier to raise it up for the driver to secure it to the coach roof. Even so, Dillon still required the jailer's help carrying it to the Long Branch. Halliman concluded the marshal would be unable to defend himself if confronted by a gunman since his right arm bore the weight of Kitty's main luggage while his left hand held onto his own carpetbag.

Chester left town with Mrs. Clippard as soon as all Miss Kitty's luggage was inside the Long Branch for others to carry upstairs to her rooms. He wasn't about to turn down a home-cooked meal in exchange for driving the old woman's buggy to her farmhouse. He'd tied his saddled horse to the back so he could ride home after eating his fill. That left the other three to enjoy a leisurely meal together as soon as each of them took care of whatever immediate business awaited. Work couldn't be neglected for three days without accumulating.

Although he shied away from greeting Kitty at the stage depot, Halliman had few qualms about securing a table next to her, Matt and Doc a couple hours later at Delmonico's. The buyer, at loose ends for up to another week, eagerly strained his ears to listen in on the private conversation at the next table. His curiosity outweighed his manners.

"Matt, how did you and Chance wind up being fostered at the same ranch? You were nearly 15 when you rode off after I patched you up from that beating, determined to make it on your own."

"I mostly did, Doc. It was a bit more than a year later when I was near starvin' that I called on family friends. My family came west with Walt Farron's family. We were close. The Farrons had a son John, just a year younger then me. We parted ways in Seneca Missouri where pa felt his abolitionist sermons would have real impact. Mr. Farron continued on to try his hand at ranching in Texas. Pa sent me to the Farron ranch every summer since I was ten until my folks died."

"Wasn't that first summer when Elias Dilborne gave you a near fatal thrashing because he thought you stole something from him?"

"Yeah Kitty," Matt replied. "That first year pa took me there to regain my strength. He was so pleased with the results he took me every summer – always through Indian country. The annual trips and the hard work on a cattle ranch toughened me up and exposed me to things I'd never have experienced on our farm."

"You could have spent the whole time after your folks died in that fire on the Farron ranch. Why didn't you?"

"For the same reason I didn't stay in Seneca or Dodge, Doc. I needed to prove myself. Learn to fight my own battles and maybe help others fight theirs along the way better than I could after I was left for dead by the river."

"How did Chance fit in?" Kitty asked.

"He was a kid from town who liked to hang around the ranch. He only had his pa, the local blacksmith. His ma passed birthin' him. When Brady Hopper died Walt Farron took his friend's boy in. One too many kicks from a mule that didn't like being shod killed Mr. Hopper. Chance was ten, like I was the first time I came to the Farron ranch. He remembered me from past summers."

Grant learned what was important to these three from what he overheard. Actually, he felt a bit ashamed of himself for not previously researching the details of the lives of the two men for both business and personal reasons. If he had, he might have known Kitty Russell was unavailable. It didn't mean foreknowledge would have prevented any heartache. He'd have still been attracted to her. He realized business wasn't why he'd eavesdropped. She was.

Abashed, Grant deliberately tuned out their conversation to concentrate on his own meal rather than what was in essence a family dinner at the next table. It didn't seem to matter they had no actual blood or legal ties. The trio was a father, his daughter and her beau, whom the father wished would become his son-in-law, sooner, rather than later. He already treated him like a son. No wonder, with the first herds a week or so away, those three and Chester Goode, whom they treated like the marshal's younger brother, had gone to "cousin" Chance Hopper's wedding. By Grant's reckoning Chance fit into "the family" by virtue of being raised with Matt Dillon when the older boy came to visit each summer starting when the new bridegroom was four and the marshal ten.

Five days later the first trail boss arrived from the Texas panhandle to seek the best price he could get for his herd of over 600 head of relatively fat longhorns. Halliman drove a hard yet fair bargain. He'd see to it the steers would get even fatter in the loading pens before being shipped east at a price commensurate with their weight upon arrival in Chicago. Since Grant didn't plan on moving them on to railcars until later herds crowded them out of the pens, he'd more than make up for it by the significantly higher price he'd sell them for at the slaughterhouse. Halliman decided to celebrate his first sale of the season with a few drinks, a poker hand or two and perhaps a wee bit of platonic attention from Kitty.

Ned Talbot was paying the saloon owner an altogether different sort of attention when the buyer entered the Long Branch. The trail boss Grant had been negotiating with wasn't taking no for an answer. Halliman was ready to interfere, even if it killed the pending deal. The Dodge blacksmith and Kitty's bartender were also ready to act. Before Halliman or Sam could move in response to Kitty's emphatic no and attempt to pull free, Quint Asper left his barely touched beer on the bar. In three strides he was beside the saloon owner and her harasser. With a strength gained from his occupation, he pulled Talbot away from her and spun him around. Behind the bar Sam stowed the shotgun and went back to polishing glasses. Grant turned his attention to the cards he'd been dealt.

"Git yer breed hands off me!" Talbot shouted as he recognized the man who'd brought his forcibly amorous intentions to an abrupt end. "I thought it was against the law to serve Injuns firewater! If the owner's willin' to ignore somethin' basic as that, she's got a nerve bein' choosy 'bout the men she entertains privately."

Quint said nothing in response. He simply knocked the Texan to the floor, picked him up by the collar, shoved him toward the exit and tossed him through the batwing doors. Talbot wound up sprawled on the Front Street dirt at Matt Dillon's feet. The marshal made no effort to help the man rise. As the cattleman pulled himself to his feet Matt looked at him and Quint, standing in the doorway, quizzically.

"Marshal," Talbot began, thinking he owed the local law, even if it was Kansas law, his take on things. "You'd best arrest that man!" he exclaimed pointing at Quint. "He attacked me. I'll gladly swear out a complaint. While you're at it, you might fine the owner for servin' him."

"Quint," Matt, now glaring at Talbot, spoke quietly. "What's this all about?"

"He wasn't accepting the fact Kitty didn't want anything more to do with him," Quint replied, stepping onto the boardwalk. "I threw him out for her."

At that point Grant Halliman, who'd left his poker game and come to the doorway, spoke up. He comprehended the meaning that lay beneath the blacksmith's words. Ned Talbot had worn out his welcome.

"Talbot, I'm not one to sit back and see a business deal go by the wayside. If you don't want to be forced to accept a drastically lower price because you have to drive your herd farther on, I'll pay you off right now," Halliman remarked.

Talbot looked about him. Only the representative of Kansas law was heeled. He was ready to complete Halliman's deal. First, though, he'd put this Injun lovin' cow town marshal in his place. Talbot spread his feet apart for better balance, his right hand against the butt of his six-shooter. Before he moved his 44 an inch, Matt had his Peacemaker out and aimed at Talbot's heart.

"Get out of Dodge. I want you and your boys headed back to Texas as soon as you're paid. I'm sure from what Kitty's told me about Halliman here, he'll be more than fair with the terms of the bill of sale."

Talbot knew where things stood. He rounded up his boys. Then, once Dillon read it over, Talbot signed the bill of sale and Halliman handed him the money. Finally, he and his drovers got out of Dodge as ordered. Hence, Talbot wasn't around to steam while the cattle buyer enjoyed a drink with Matt Dillon and his friends.

"I'd planned on making Dodge City my home if sales went well. It's why I've been observing those who live here. I saw how you folks look out for one another, even that Chance Hopper fellow. 'Course he's not a total stranger. I reckon that's how come you all, 'cept Quint and Sam, went to his wedding. It set me to thinkin'."

Grant Halliman accepted a new bottle of rye from Sam and poured. Keeping one hand lightly on Sam's arm so he couldn't refuse, Grant handed the barman a full glass. He then raised a spare one that replaced his beer mug in a toast.

"Here's to family, no matter its makeup, and friends who always have your back! I nearly forgot it's what I have in Chicago. I'll head home when I'm done for this year, but I'll keep returning to where I can make a living at what I know I'm good at and to visit with friends."


End file.
